Randall and the Rebel
by LauraCynthia
Summary: After escaping the trailer, Randall seeks refuge at Pester Enterprises, another monster business, but in the human world. What happens when he meets a like-minded colleague and tries to convince her to go back with him?
1. I Wondered As I Was Laundered

The washing machine thrashed about angrily, filled with would-be 2319s. He  
screamed as detergent slid under his eyelids and over his skin. The endless  
spinning made him nauseous beyond belief. Piles of shirts, jeans and socks  
pummeled him. Finally, he could take it no longer.  
"BLECHHHH!!!!!!" He puked all over the machine. Yellow-white vomit sprayed  
on the glass window. His own personal 24-hours-a-day roller coaster had  
betrayed him again. The puke mixed with the clothes quickly and stained  
them all. He felt the warmth of the liquid from his own innards that now  
covered his live body like a liquid shroud.  
A teenager with purple spiky hair and no apparent gender stared in the  
window, not noticing the source of the problem. His? Her? face mushed into  
something ugly, not unlike some of the people he had known.  
"Awww, freaking machine! What the freak did you do to my clothes?" The kid  
kicked the side of the machine. He felt the vibrations emanating into his  
body.  
An old, fat, bald man plodded over to the machine and looked in it. "I  
don't believe this. The same problem as the other three." He stood up,  
which took him a long time. "Rose?" he yelled. "Call the repair guy, we got  
ourselves another problem. Same as before."  
"No way," a whiny female voice yelled back. "I'm not going to spend 50  
bucks on 'nothing's wrong!'"  
"Rose, you stubborn mule, we're probably losing twice that in business each  
time!" The man rubbed his forehead and sighed.  
The teen squatted down and looked in the machine. "What is that stuff?"  
"Beats me," the man said. He walked away in the same fashion as he had  
before. The kid slumped down on the bench across from the machines.  
  
It was some time later. The Laundromat was closed. He crawled out of the  
machine and over to a small sink in the back. Grabbing a relatively clean  
washcloth, he wet it and wiped himself off. Man, the feeling of that stuff  
all over your skin. And the smell! Like a bouquet of flowers! Ripe!  
He was pretty sure he had gotten it all off, so he turned off the water and  
shook himself all over to dry, which wasn't easy, as he was not furry. Then  
he gave himself a once-over in the poor light.  
He was bruised all over, rather hard to tell as the bruises matched his  
natural color almost perfectly. His eyes were all red, and he looked  
positively sick, no thanks to that infernal machine.  
His stomach grumbled. He couldn't help what he did, the puking, it was a  
natural reaction to the washing machine's spinning. By day, he had to hide,  
and the machine was the best place. He had tried to lay low on the benches,  
but one day a woman sat on him. He couldn't risk that again. It was against  
the Code.  
  
He remembered the day he had first arrived. He was past due for a coffee  
break, which would've been in only half an hour back where he came from. He  
had only a couple of bucks, which he'd managed to borrow for milk with  
lunch from one of the guys.  
  
Before he was exiled.  
  
It was a strange place, after the swamp. Though not much different from  
home, it was so different, because here, nobody would see him as normal.  
Nobody. He couldn't even go back to the kid. First of all, he didn't know  
where the heck she was, and second of all, they could find him. They. The  
very people who had put him here in the first place.  
  
He walked the streets. Buildings made him feel so small. The noises he had  
heard before. The sights he had seen before. This is now your life, they  
all said. This. This pile of garbage bags. This dumpster. This broken-down  
car. All of it was him. All of it was how he felt.  
  
Sighing loudly, he walked over to the trash bags and lay down in them. Not  
bad for a bed.  
  
"PSSSSSSST! Wake up!"  
Who was that? He opened his eyes and saw a dog-like creature staring at  
him. She had pale blue eyes, and green-gray fur. Her ears hung down the  
sides of her head like two large socks.  
"You one of them?"  
He didn't know how to respond. Was she an exile? What could she possibly  
have done?  
"You mean an exile?" he whispered, not sure why.  
"Mmm-hmm," she said. "Are you hungry?" 


	2. Welcome To Pester Enterprises!

Randall sat in the comfortable office chair, staring out the window.

"Kid?" An older woman sat in front of him. She had pink fur and looked like a dragon that had been tarred and feathered. "Okay, we already know your name and all that jazz, but now we have to find a job for you."

"A job?"

"Yeah, something to keep you busy. Welcome to Pester Enterprises. We are the largest exile group in the world. And now you're a member." Randall could finally read her nametag; Mrs. Flesh. "Cally told me you'd be kind of a tough nut to crack. I guess she figured, with those bruises and all.........say, how'd you get those, anyway?"

"Long story............Cally? Was she the one who found me?"

"Yup. You're lucky, too. She's one of the more famous exiles around here, too. Cally Wintergreen. Ever heard of her?"

"The name is familiar...." He had heard of her before; he was sure of it. But where?

"Let's see if this brings back memories; the Elder Crisis."

"Of course! That's it! I was still in training then. She was the one who led that group who tried to scare adults."

"Uh huh. Biggest scandal of the century. What was so special about her case was that she actually managed to stay in Monstropolis for a while before being exiled. They made an effort to hide it as much as possible, but when those guys from the _Times_ got a hold of the story, there was no stopping them. Gave her 2 weeks of news coverage, a made-for-TV movie, and a book before they finally shipped her out. But she's a good kid now."

"Yeah, well..."

"So, as I was saying, we need to find you a job. But first, let me introduce you to what we do here at Pester Enterprises. Our founder was Calvin X. Pester, my great-grandfather. He was not the first exile, but he decided to help out those less well-off. So he decided to create a company. But more than just a company. He decided to create a home." She paused to cough into a tissue, then drank from her coffee cup. "We read your profile. Blue exile, eh?"

"Blue?"

"Improperly exiled, that is. You're going to have to learn the lingo around here. Anyhoo, we also noticed that you listed that you had a prior camouflage ability."

"Yes."

"Seems we exiles all develop that same ability after being turned out for more than half an hour in any one place. Some kind of built-in survival mechanism."

Randall looked up at this. "Were you-"

"Exiled? No, I was born here. Born with the ability. That's another quirk."

"Oh. Because I can hardly see _you _being a troublemaker." This oughta get me in good, he snickered in his head.

"That's very kind of you. But flattery will get you nowhere, if that's what you're thinking." She turned back to the computer.

Man, she's on to me, Randall thought.

"Oh man, I just keep getting off topic! Listen, I've been on the job since 3 am this morning, and it's now-what is it?-4 pm. 13 hours! I have every right to be cranky and I would be if I was the cranky type, which I'm not, so you're lucky. And this coffee ain't helping without a darn. So take a look around, get some rest, and report to the medical office at 9 am sharp for an exam." She handed him some papers. "Just give that to the doc before you go in."

"Exam?" His voice shook with that word.

"Oh, you know, the usual stuff, to make sure you're well enough to go to work, you know so you won't drop dead on the job and give us another inquest to have to go through." She grabbed a sheet off the pile she had given him. "See right here? Third floor, down the hall, 'til you come to a hallway painted neon pink. Neon pink. Isn't that gawd-awful? It was actually a mistake, you know. We wanted cream to match the rest of the hallways, but no, somehow the painting crew misread cream as neon pink. Left it that way, though, 'cause before that, everybody had trouble finding the main medical clinic. Had one poor guy who sat for 10 hours naked in a supply closet before one of the nurses realised he hadn't shown up. Finally found him shivering beneath a pile of rags, fast asleep. Worst part of it is he wound up with pneumonia. Well, I've got to stop jabbering on. You're probably getting right sick of the sound of my voice." She grabbed her coffee mug and keys, and turned out the lights."I'll let my machine pick up the rest of the calls. If they really need me, they can come and get me. You going to be okay, hon?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Good. Now you just take it easy, Mr. Boggs. Can I call you Randy? Like Randy Travis. Heard some of his music on my radio 5 years ago. Been hooked ever since. He's a country singer." Mrs. Flesh walked out of the room, and Randall followed. "You can call me Alice. That's what everybody calls me. They say I know everything 'cause my dad taught me to read using the company newsletter. You know, they're like, 'Go ask Alice.' Anyway, have a nice day, Randy."

Alice locked the door with her key and walked down the hallway. Randall stared as she walked away, thinking about something far back in his mind, when suddenly a cart crashed into him, sending his papers flying in the air like seagulls. Randall fell over. The guy pushing the cart-he was a member of the maintenance staff- was listening to a walkman. He continued on his way.

As Randall picked up his papers, he shoved them absent-mindedly into a file folder. He happened to notice that whoever had labeled the folder, it was certainly not Alice. The label read BOOGER, WENDELL.

Finally, the question that had escaped him a moment ago was as clear as if he'd thought of it for the first time.

What on earth had he gotten himself into?


	3. Exam Time

Randall had no trouble finding the main medical hallway. He could see the gawdy pink paint from a mile away. Not to mention what looked like the mother of all Christmas wreaths hanging on the wall. He wondered why Alice hadn't mentioned it; it was kind of hard to miss. The receptionist, a fly-woman, was chewing bubble gum and chatting on her computer. There were no other patients.

He sat down in the waiting area. The wooden circular table in front of him was piled with literature. There was, of course, 3 or 4 copies of the company newsletter, "The Pester Bee", and some magazines he did not recognise. He stared at the titles. Reader's Digest, Popular Mechanics, Sports Illustrated, Time. All human magazines, he guessed. There was also a children's magazine. The front cover was ripped off, so he couldn't read the name. The back, however, was intact. It featured an ad for a new movie coming to theatres. The title of the movie was "People Unlimited." Randall did a double take, then quickly dropped the magazine as though it were toxic. He saw another magazine underneath it. It was open, and the picture showed a human adult. Female. And wearing a bikini-

He heard a loud yell, coming from behind him and turned his head. The magazine slipped to the floor. He watched as a large hornet-like creature flew down the hall, screaming, "YAGH! NEEDLES!!" 3 doctors and/or nurses- Randall couldn't tell- ran after him in hot pursuit, brandishing hypodermic syringes.

He couldn't help but notice the irony of the situation, and even snickered, his first time since the exiling, a sound as foreign to his ears as if he had just meowed.

"Mr. Booger? Wendell Booger?" There it was, that awful name the labeler had stuck on him.

"Uh, that's me, I'm Wen- I mean Randall. Randall Boggs."

"Oh, then somebody labeled you wrong, huh? Happens all the time." The doctor looked like an Alice clone. A male Alice clone. A male green Alice clone. "I'm Dr. Beele. Well, we'll just straighten that name thing out. I'll relabel your thing for you. That should take care of it." He turned to lead Randall into the exam room, then looked back at him. "Oh, if you don't mind my asking, how'd you get those bruises?"

"Long story."

"Mmmhmmm. Before I take a look at you, why don't you slip into this?" He held out a pale blue dress-like thing. "We all wear clothes here. We've found it's chillier than back where you're used to. Those born here don't notice as much. Besides, look at you. You're positively shivering."

Randall looked down at his first pair of hands. They did seem to be jittery. He looked further. So were his second. Grabbing the gown, he pulled it on over his head.

"Boy, I wish I had a mirror. Do I look okay?" It hung on him.

"I'm no fashion expert, but it'll have to do for now. You'll get some regular clothes later. Oh, and by the way, I forgot to mention this, but my name's Bob. You know, if we ever become friends."

Randall followed him through the door. The walls of the exam room were painted a light blue color, almost the same as the gown. He climbed up on the table, which had a paper sheet on it.

Bob sat down in an office chair. "You're probably wondering how we got your medical files from your old life, right?"

"That would be nice to know."

"Hacked 'em."

"Then you're my kind of guy."

Bob laughed. "Well, we have to. Nobody in Monstropolis or anywhere else back there knows of our existence. Well, there were rumors, but they were quickly dispelled. Now, getting back to business, I'd just like to review your record with you. It really doesn't matter this first time, because at the initial examination we treat you like you have no record. Test you to death, so to speak. But I just like to make sure everything here is correct. Let's see.......born in 1965, the usual earaches, broken leg at age 6 falling out of your bedroom window-"

"Wild pillow fight."

"-tonsillectomy, age 6, appendectomy, age 9, broken leg, age 13-"

"Ski trip."

"-7 raisins up the nose, age 18, first day of job training. Kept overnight in hospital due to nosebleeds and oxygen deprivation. Oh, and somebody filled out a 'Legitimate Leave' form for you."

"Raisin stuffing contest. Sully beat me. I'm still wondering how the heck he got 23 up there."

"Broken fingers from slamming a door on them, mild hypothermia when a kid locked you outside after pushing you out the window in 40 below zero weather, broken toes when a scream canister fell on your foot. My, you had a very interesting work experience."

"Those were all at the beginning of my career. And Sully bumped me. I wouldn't have dropped that canister any other way."

"I believe you," Bob's words said, but his face and voice didn't. "A year ago, a touch of pneumonia, and that's it. Anything else you remember?"

"No, that's everything." Randall shifted his weight around on the table. It made a crinkling sound. "By any chance, are you related to Alice from job counselling?"

"Yeah. I guess it's pretty obvious. Brother, actually."

"Twin?"

"No, 10 years younger. Everybody thinks we're twins, which is a compliment to her and an insult to me." Bob laughed. It had a rolling, low sort of sound, like a water wheel. He took out a pad of paper from underneath Randall's file folder. "So. How are you feeling?"

"Tired."

"That happens a lot, because of the stress of being exiled and having to get used to your new surroundings, and in your case, it's also the cold. Reptilians usually have a hard time getting used to the temperature. It's normal. Any complaints? Like sore throats and that kinda jazz?"

"Not really."

Bob took out his stethoscope and put the ends into his ears. He placed the disk of it on Randall's gown front. Suddenly, Randall felt awkward. He had never been friends with anybody who shoved medicine down his throat before.

After a minute, Bob switched to the back and had Randall cough. He complied. When Bob was done with this, Randall yawned. His last thought was, I hope they have chocolate here.

"Wake up."

He was lying on the beach. A breeze scented with tropical flowers floated by. A little girl ran up to him and slapped him on the right cheek. Boo. Suddenly, there were hundreds of Boos, all slapping him on his cheeks. They were everywhere. His face began to sting-

"Randall!"

He looked around. He was still in the office. Bob was standing by the table.

"I thought you'd fainted. You okay?" His face showed a look of concern. "I waited, actually, until I had finished my examination to wake you." The look didn't seem so genuine anymore. "Everyhting seems normal, though. However, I am sending in a nurse to draw some blood for you." Randall's face went purpleish white. "It shouldn't hurt that much."

"No, it's the-"

"Oh, blood. Well, just don't look." He walked out of the room.

Randall was alone with his own thoughts for a minute. He wanted to know a lot of things. What this place was all about. What the heck he was supposed to do. And what was the point of living here?

"Hey, kid. Remember me?" Cally's head peeked through the door.

"Where's the nurse?"

"Didn't Bob tell you?" Cally, now that he saw her whole body, was clad in a pale pink T shirt and matching pants. "Guess he didn't know I found you." In her hand was a needle and some cotton balls. She sat in a chair beside the one that Bob had been in. "You can come down now." She pulled a small tray out of the wall between the two chairs and put the equipment on it.

Randall slithered off the table and sat in Bob's chair.


	4. Interlude: Legitimate Leave

Legitimate Leave Form

This form is only to be used for verifying an unexpected leave of absence by an employee (FT or PT) a trainee, or anyone else who is under contract with Monsters Inc. Any unauthorized usage of this sheet is prohibited. Also, if the person whose record is in question is found not to have a legitimate excuse for said leave, all report filers will be notified. The employee, trainee or contract worker's job/training status with this company will be considered in the judging process, as will their previous job records, or, in the case of a trainee, the secondary/post-secondary school record will be considered. Thank you for taking the time to fill out this form. In the case of a person who really does have a good excuse for leaving, it will no doubt prove beneficial to verifying this associate's character.

Thank you,

Sidney McConnelly

Vice President, Employee Services

Name of Employee/Trainee: Randall Boggs

Status:Trainee

Date of Beginning of Absence: Septemeber 23, 1983

Duration of Absence: 7 days

Date of Return to Work/Job Training: Septmeber 30, 1983

Report Filed by(omit if same as the absentee): James P. Sullivan

Status of Reporter: Trainee

In your own words, state the events leading up to the leave of absence, why an absence was necessary, and who was involved in the reason for the absence:

The day before the incident, when us trainees were given a tour of the workplace, we got to see the lunch room. When they showed us what kind of food they served there, I looked at the pies. Suddenly, I felt something at the back of my neck. My face got pushed into a coconut cream pie. I turned around, dripping with cream, and saw Randall standing in line, acting so perfect, whistling and smiling as though there was nothing wrong. I wiped the pie off my face to the tune of laughter from all the others. Of course the guy giving us the tour hadn't seen a thing, and figured I must have tripped into the pie.

I wasn't mad, but I knew that I wanted to get Randall back just for fun. I figured he'd shrug it off and mock-threaten me, like he used to do in gym class ("You're mine, sucker. I'm gonna wipe that smile off your furry ugly face!").

So I asked my friend Mike, who's kind of an expert on many hobbies; at least, is an expert on one until the next one comes along; then yoyos are "HotPotatoesVille". Anyway, this week it was sleight of hand tricks, and boy did he show me a good one. It was perfect.

So, we're at lunch the next day, and I bring a box of raisins. (I'd counted them last night, 50) Randall is sitting at the end of the lunch table, eating a hot dog, and I ask him, "Hey Randall, how's about a contest?"

"I like contests, Sullivan." (We were already learning to refer to each other by our last names.) "Especially ones that I win. What are the stakes?"

"Loser buys winner lunch for a month."

"Getting better and better." He rubbed his hands with delight. "What's the contest?"

"Raisin stuffing. Up the nose. Have one minute. 25 raisins each."

"Deal." He shook hands with me. Something I never thought Randall would do.

I poured out the raisins on the table and counted out 25 for him. He grabbed them and put them in front of him. Mike set up the stopwatch.

"Okay, ready?" he asked me.

"Ready?" I sneered at Randall.

"Ready," we said in unison.

"Okay, 10,9,8,7,6,5,4,3,2,1..............gentlemen, STUFF YOUR NOSES!!!!" Mike pressed the button on the stopwatch to start it.

Okay, now here's the trick. Instead of stuffing the raisins up my nose, I was eating them! How, you may ask? When I picked up the raisin, I pressed it against the palm of my hand with my thumb and put my hand over my mouth. Then, while I ate the raisin, I stuck my finger up my nose!

Randall didn't seem to be having much "luck". But he did manage to get some up there. And then, before I knew it, time was up.

"10,9,8,7,6,5,4,3,2,1, and the CHAMPEEN ISSSSSSS...........SULLY! You win! Now everybody can go back to their lives! Oh, and Randall is in deep debt. Hey-"

Mike stopped and looked over at Randall. I looked,too.

His face was a darker blue than I had ever seen him change before. He was making gasping sounds and grabbing at his face.

"Randall? What's wrong?"

"My-hack-ack-huuugth-yeach-no. Noooo!"

I suddenly realised what he was saying; "My nose!"

"Gasp-ack-can't-huuuuuugth! HUUUUUUGTH!" I jumped out of my seat and ran over to his side of the table. Randall thrashed around and changed an even darker blue, almost black. I sat on his legs.

"Mike, go ask somebody if you can borrow an eyebrow tweezer." He did so. (Incidentally, that was how he met Celia.) I held down his arms with one hand and tried to tweeze out the raisins with another. I managed to get two out, but there were 7 more (16 left on the table). The others were too far in, and Randall was squirming too much. I sent Mike again, this time to call an ambulance. 20 minutes later, the paramedics came and took him away.

Later, I learned that he had to be sedated before the other 7 raisins were removed. They also had to keep him overnight because of nosebleeds and possible brain damage from oxygen deprivation. He was ordered to spend the rest of the week at home relaxing from the shock.

Oh, and in case you're wondering, I'm not going to make Randall buy me lunch. He won fair and square.


	5. It Might Be Love

Cally probed the crook of Randall's left top arm elbow with her index finger. After a minute, she looked up at him. "Yeesh. If blood vessels were muscles, you wouldn't even be able to sit up. They're barely palpable."

"Huh?"

"I can hardly feel them."

"Oh."

"Here, go like this." She opened and closed her fist several times. "For about a minute. Then I'll try again."

Randall did as she said. "So, I thought you were a former employee of Monsters Inc. How'd you get nurse's training?"

"Correspondence courses. Took me 2 years. Been working in the clinic ever since."

He looked over at her. "I heard why you got exiled."

Cally brushed an ear out of her face."Yeah, I'm not exactly an unknown." She picked up his arm again and repeated her earlier action. After a few seconds, she found a large enough vein and inserted the needle. Randall looked away. He felt ill. Suddenly, he actually felt sorry for the hornet guy. A new feeling. One that didn't fit him, like a hand-me-down pair of shoes.

"It helps if you talk about something else." Cally said. "But I guess you'll have to learn that lesson next time. All done." She took the needle out, and put a small bandaid on his arm. Randall sighed with relief. "Oh, and Doc Beele told me to give you this." It was a small plastic cup with a round lid. Randall stared grimly at it. He knew exactly what it was for.

"Bathroom's to your left," Cally called as he walked out the door and down the hall.

Somehow, between blood and Cally's reappearance, Randall had forgotten all about breakfast. Luckily, they were still serving breakfast food. He walked in to the serving area of the cafeteria and grabbed a green tray off the rack.

The server he stood in front of was also dog-like, but a pink poodle woman. She had her hair-fur- in a hair-fur-net.

"Bonjour, monsieur," she purred. "Qu'est-ce que vous aimez?"

He recognized the language, French. He had heard it several times on the job, but only knew one phrase really well. He decided to use it now.

"Est-ce que je peux aller aux toilettes?"

The poodle woman burst out laughing.

"Huh? Pardon me?"

She took the pencil from behind her ear and drew a picture on a pad of paper and handed it to him. Randall stared at it for a few seconds before finally realising what he had said. The picture was of a crudely-drawn lizard, himself, he supposed, and an arrow pointing to a toilet. Randall blushed.

"No, no,that isn't what I mean. I mean, I want........" The poodle offered the pencil to him. Randall gratefully took it from her hand and drew pictures of an egg, a sausage, a stack of waffles, and a cup of coffee. He handed it back to her.

"Mais oui! Un oeuf, des saucissons, gaufres, et une tasse de cafe! Oui, monsieur." She loaded up his tray with the items he asked for, then sent him on his way.

"Thank you."

"Non. Merci."

"Oh, uh, yeah. Mercy. Whatever." Randall walked away from the counter. As he did, he suddenly felt uncomfortable, a weird prickly sensation on the back of his neck. Turning around, he saw that all the servers were looking at him oddly. Thinking hardly anything of it, he walked into the caf.

There were very few people there. Oddly, however, as soon as he walked in, all the conversation stopped as they all looked at him. Randall turned around and walked towards the door, as fast as he could without spilling his tray.

As he went through the door, somebody grabbed his left top arm, hard, and pulled him back through the door.

"Ouch! Hey, what do you think you're-" He looked up, and saw his captor; it was none other than Cally.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! That was your bad arm, wasn't it?" Cally brushed her ears out of her face. "You know, working hours in the clinic, pulling hundreds of people's blood samples. I'm kind of surprised I didn't remember you, though."

"Is this your break?"

"Yeah."

"Guess you didn't have time to eat this morning either, huh?"

"No, actually, this is my brunch. I'm a very hungry person." Cally laughed. Unlike Bob's, hers was a cross between a giggle and a chuckle. They sat down at a table together. Randall could see that she basically had the same things on her tray that he did, but more of them. She also had bacon and hash browns.

"Do you know why they were all staring at me?"

"Well, partly because you're new, and partly because you're nude. Most of the folks in Monstropolis go around in the buff, except when they're in positions of authority, or when they're women. But a lot of the Pester guys are born here, and therefore they're used to seeing us all clothed. If you walked in wearing a three-piece suit and tie, and dress shoes, they wouldn't bat an eye."

"Uh-huh." Randall sipped his coffee. "I see."

"Oh, by the way, I learned something very interesting about you."

"What?"

"First of all, a sight test."

"Aw,come on. I already had enough tests."

"This won't take very long." She threw a box on the table and took something out of it. "Okay, here's a Skittle." Cally placed a red candy on the table. Then she appeared to pick it up and stick it up her left nostril. "Now, where did it go?"

"That's easy. Up your nose."

"Wrongo." She repeated the action, slower, with a blue candy. This time, Randall could see that it didn't go up her nose at all, but instead, she put it in her mouth and stuck a furry finger up instead. "I ate it."

Randall looked confused for a few seconds, then he understood immediately what she was trying to tell him. "Criminy, so THAT'S how he did it!!" Randall banged on the lunch table so loudly that the guys at the next table looked up at him. He disappeared for 10 seconds, then reappeared.

Cally was laughing at him.

"What's so funny?" he asked, then looked down. In shock, he saw that he had reproduced the pattern of the American flag.

"No wonder they were all staring. When you get embarassed, you probably do something similar to that all the time!"

After a 10 minute laugh fest (even Randall himself managed a couple of half-hearted snickers), they got back to their food. Randall cut his waffles and ate a huge chunk all at once.

"Did you get sidetracked by Sweet Polly French Bread like I did?"

"Oh, you mean Cerise. After a while, we all learn a little French from her. At least enough to tell her what we want."

"Me, I only have enough knowledge of the language to ask her if I can go to the bathroom. Afterwards, she begged me for mercy."

"'Merci' means 'thank you' in French."

"Oh, another mystery solved." A piece of waffle fell out of his mouth and on to the floor. He kicked it under the table. "So, you know all about me, I'm sure, I practically wrote my biography for Alice. What about you? I know all about you, I mean, who doesn't, but I'd kinda like to hear it from the horse's-uh, dog's mouth."

Cally cut a piece of sausage and put it in her mouth. "Okay, where to begin? I suppose I should start back at the '83 blackout. We all thought it was the end of screams."

"Same here. '00 wasn't a picnic either. I got caught inside a door for 3 hours. But that's a story I'll tell you later."

"Anyway, I was 23. A new employee, fresh from the ranks of training school. I already had a group of friends, both new and old. And then there was the power. Boss Boy said we had to work harder than ever, 'cause-"

"-'Children don't get scared as easily anymore.' Even then? Man, Waternoose used to give us the same speech over and over. It was like his pet mantra. Go on."

"Anyway, we all did our best. But, of course we also quickly found out that what he said was true. My first assignment locked me out of her room. I went downstairs and they mistook me for the family dog. After shooing me outside, I had to climb up the ivy trellis and through the window-lucky the kid was still sleeping-and finally I came back through the door. I had the worst luck with doors,at the beginning. Micheler-Fran Micheler, the floor supervisor- said I had probably broken the record for most dead doors discovered by one scarer." She sipped her coffee. "That was, until I made a discovery that changed my life. It was a normal day. Go in the door, roar, go out the door. Until the last child on my list. Penny Hocking. I'll never forget that name. 5 year old. Her mom was just leaving her room when I came in. I roared at the girl and she screamed very loudly. Upon hearing the scream, her mom came back in before I had the chance to hide or go back through the door. She saw me and screamed, too. I ran out the door, fast, and then I got a cheer of congratulations from everyone on the floor. My scare assistant, Peep Brannigan, said that he'd never seen anyone get that kind of power out of one door, ever. Fran told me that this time I did break a record, for most canisters used on one door. I guess she thought that it was Penny who did all the screaming. That was when it all began to make sense. If children produced powerful screams, isn't it logical to think that adult screams might be even more powerful?"

"I suppose."

"Well, that night I invited all my friends to my house and told them what I had discovered. They were ecstatic. I tell you, I have never seen happier monsters in all my life. That is, until Peep spoke up. 'But Cally,' he asked, 'isn't there a certain amount of risk involved? I mean, what if they catch you at it?' ("Peep sounds like somebody I used to know," Randall said.) 'Nonsense,' I said, 'you all noticed that Fran didn't so much as ask me why Penny was so incredibly horrified by me for the first time?' That seemed to settle it, because after that, nobody questioned my logic.

"The plan was, go in, scare kid, hide under bed and wait for parent, come out from under bed, scare parent, and go out. Simple, huh? It was, for a while. I lead my floor and all the others in scaring, my friends not far behind. Who was the floor leader on yours?"

"Sully, the raisin guy. Had about a hundred thou."

"I coulda creamed him. Try 267 thou."

"Do you hold the all-time scare record?"

"Used to, but I got disqualified after being discovered. Now it's - was - about 123 thou. The way they discovered me was rather unusual. Did you catch that documentary, 'Scared Silly: The Monster's Inc Story'?"

"Catch it? Are you kidding? I was in it. 4 scenes. 3 backgrounds, once in a scene showing the training course."

"Well, then, you remember that show they did afterwards, showing the best scarers? 'Scar'd'?"

"They made us watch it for training homework."

"One day,months later, I went in the doors as usual, to do my thing. I followed the plan exactly. The next day, the police show up at my door to arrest me. Seems one of the doors had a hidden camera planted in it and when they were watching the video to edit it they saw what we had done. In short, busted."

"Ouch. And that's when it all began."

"Yup. The year-long trial, the made-for-TV movie, the extended news coverage, and, of course, my book. The profits of which I can't collect. That's where your Christmas bonus came from, and probably they still do that."

"Really? Thank you. I always wondered where they got the money."

"So, yeah, that's my story." The food tray was empty. Cally looked at her watch. "Well, it's almost time for my shift to begin." She got up with her tray. "See ya."

Randall watched her walk away. As he did, he felt really weird somewhere in his middle, like he had swallowed an aerobic snake. He wondered what it could be.

After leaving the caf, he went up to his room and opened the door. He saw something on the bed. It was plastic bag. Randall opened it up and found a green T-shirt with 4 arm holes, a pair of jeans with 4 legs, and 2 pairs of shoes and socks. On the T-shirt, there was a Post-it note. Randall read it.

-Randall

I didn't think you were the three-piece suit type. These were in the hand-me-down box. Oh, and look in the shirt pocket. There you'll find the answer to the question you asked.

Love, Cally

Randall took something out of the pocket. It was a thick chocolate bar. The label said AERO. Randall re-read the note. 'Love, Cally'

The snake was back.


	6. Recuperation

The sound of a knock on the door interrupted Randall's thoughts.

"Are you.......can't read the dang thing......Randall? Randall Boggs?"

"Yeah." He turned around and saw a kid monster standing in the doorway. She was a bored-looking iguana type with a Walkman on and her hair in pigtails. About 14, he guessed. "What about it?"

"Message for you." She handed him a note. "It's from Mrs. Flesh."

"Oh, thanks, uh-"

"Zera. Resident mailgirl."

"Yeah, sure Zera. Thanks." He looked down at the note.

Randall:

We forgot to talk about your job. Come down at once. I'm so darn forgetful.

-Alice

And that was how it had began. The official term was "sock monster", but Randall thought of it as more like "puke your guts out until you die and the X files comes after your body." There were numerous other jobs to choose from, such as "weight lifter", which wasn't what it sounded like, but rather involved placing your hand on weigh scales and either fixing the prices of meat or making a woman who thought she'd lost weight annoyed. Then there was "crash causer", a rather risky job in which the employee stood in the middle of highways, invisible, then quickly appeared and disappeared, causing drivers to not pay attention to the road and crash. It was commissioned; the more cars you crashed, the bigger your pay. A major pile-up meant a bonus. On the other hand, if any deaths or severe injuries such as paralysis or permanent brain damage resulted, it meant big bucks lost. He had dismissed both of them, saying the former was too easy and the latter too hard.

"What's the point in doing all this work, anyway? What are we accomplishing?"

" Randy, you would be soooo surprised."

"What?" Now she had peaked his curiosity.

"My great-grandfather was no dummy. He had a theory. One that proved right. He believed that annoyance was the anti-scare, anti-laugh, anti-everything. And he discovered misery waves, unlike any other. The power outages you had back home? That's us. Now, ordinarily misery waves are low in concentration and therefore don't make an impact. But ever since we went into business, it's been booming. Now that they've switched to laughter, they don't realise that they're not getting all the power they're entitled to. Actually half that." She let out a half-hearted cackle.

Randall couldn't believe his ears. It was so perfect, and so wrong, all at the same time, yet he felt no pity for his "friends". They deserved it for sending him out in a world like that. Of course, when it came to Cally,.........he still wasn't sure exactly how he felt about that. Okay, maybe there were some good things about it. They weren't so hateful.

And so he returned to the world of the bathroom, and the vomit, and the sink, and all the things he knew. Staring at the pale, wasted body, the heaving chest, the sad, dark eyes. Slinking away into a corner, he bedded in some forgotten sheets, much as he had that first night in the trash. Nausea and pain invaded his body the way he'd invaded this foreign world just months ago. It was just too much.

Hours later, he woke up, still achy, still sick, but with a fervour and determination such as he had only read about in books.

He was going back.

Evidently, Randall's newfound strength was a DOA, because it was all he could do to stagger up to the sliding doors of Pester Enterprises and flop over between the two. As the doors repeatedly opened and closed on his head, he felt waves of pain rack his body. He could hear snoring coming from the main reception desk. The night shifter, he guessed.

"Help," he moaned softly. "Help."

Suddenly, he heard the sound of a cell phone. The snoring stopped abruptly and he heard the rustling of papers. "Hello...hey, Kimmi.......no, I'm not doing anything......yeah, you woke me up. What is it?...........uh huh..........no. I am not going skiing. Even on the bunny slope.....no. No. I swear I will die in a cloud of snow. Seriously.........okay,listen, I heard something at the door. Probably another stray dog or something. I'll call you later, Kimmi. Okay? Bye." Sneakers on the floor. Then a look that started out as "huh?", became "oh no, are you all right?" and finally "I'll go call someone."

The pelican ran back over behind the desk and punched in some numbers. "Hey, this the Meds? Yeah, good, I got the right number this time. There's a guy out here, looks pretty bad..........yeah, he's concious, but just barely. Looks rather sick. Just get down here. Okay? Bye." He heard some more noises, then she came out and covered him with a blanket.

What followed was as cordial a welcome as Randall could have wished for, albeit hectic. Pure pandemonium ensued as various doctors and nurses hovered around him, all performing different tasks at the same time. He gazed at the ceiling for a good long while, then drowsed off for a minute. The last thing he remembered was a sharp pain in the back of his hand.

A "minute" later, he was still staring at the ceiling, but not that ceiling. He looked at the clock. 9:30 am. The whole night had passed in seconds for him.

Looking down, Randall saw he was wearing a gown not unlike the one Bob had clad him with. His gaze shifted to his right upper hand, tightly bound with a bandage that covered up a small needle that someone had inserted there. The needle was connected to a tube that wound its way up a metal pole form which was hanging a bag of clear stuff.

"It's called an IV. That's food." He looked up and saw Cally standing at the door. "Say, you gave us quite a scare last night. What happened?" She walked in and sat down on the edge of the bed. Randall got a sick feeling that didn't come from last night's puke fest, and strangely wasn't the bad kind of sick.

"I got into an accident. Washing machine. Socks. Yuck."

"Oh, that job.'Sock monster'."

"I should've known better. I used to get motion sickness just riding a bike."

"You actually lasted the longest at it than anyone I know. Most give up their first time."

"Hey, so I'm a winner. Gee, I wonder if my misery is worth anything."

"Nope. If that were true we could just take turns playing April Fool's Day tricks on each other. Which would be pretty pointless, because the best misery is unexpected misery, and after a while we'd get used to being annoyed."

"Makes sense."

"You know, you'd better hurry up and get well soon. Or else I won't let you go on the company ski getaway with me. You'll have to be babysat by someone else." Cally's eyes flashed in a way that made Randall want to make it happen again.

"So that's what that woman was saying-go on."

"Yeah, every year we get to spend the holidays breaking our legs just so we can get free time off. But that's just for new guys. Us old-timers love the powder."

On the wall, Randall saw a copy of the PESTER Code. It was an acrostic.

Perserverance

Elusiveness

Strength

Teamwork

Enthusiasm

Responsibility

Elusiveness. That was the one he'd had trouble with. Having had the ability to be invisible since birth, it was rather strange to him that he'd be so bad at it now.

"Randall? You still with me?"

"Oh, uh yeah. Yeah." He glanced at the bag of "food". It was practically drained. "Uh, my dish is, uh, empty. There's painkillers in there?"

"Mmm-hmm. I may be kinda tough, but not that cruel. Hang on, I'll get you another. Want me to ask for a sedative? You look awful tired."

"Sure. Go ahead and do that."

"Okay. But first I'll close those curtains." She walked over and untied the sashes. The drapes fell across the window. "Bob says we should probably wait a week before starting you on solid food again. Get some weight back on you, get rid of those bruises. You know, you lost 10 and a half pounds." She moved towards the door. "Now take it easy. I want you to be asleep before I come back, you bad boy."

"Yes, Nurse Cally. I'll do as you say." Randall said in a teasing tone of voice. As she left the room, he laughed softly to himself, winced slightly upon turning over on his side (the painkiller wasn't foolproof) and slipped into a dreamless, natural sleep.


	7. Checkers and Jello

"Yech. This slop is disgusting! Even the toilet is too good for it."

"Which is a good thing, because you're supposed to eat it, not chuck it." Dr. Beele stood at the end of the bed.

"What's in it, anyway?" Randall picked up a spoonful of the stuff, and poured it back into the bowl.

"Carrots. And added vitamins. Why? Would you rather I hooked you up to that IV again?"

"No way." Cally had taken it out of his hand yesterday and had put a Band-Aid over the wound. It still smarted.

"Well, I could put a tube down your nose, but like I said, you're supposed to feed yourself. Plus, I don't think you'd like it much."

"Hey, how's the puker?" Cally walked in with a vase full of flowers. "It's usually the guy who brings the girl flowers, but I didn't know what else to get you. Besides, this room is pretty, well, white. Like snow. Boring, eh?" She set them down on the table next to the bed.

"He's gained a pound and a half. Which is pretty good for someone who, up until now, was on a liquid diet." Bob made a note on his clipboard.

"Pssst. Hey, uh, Bob, me and Randall want some....alone time. Is that okay?"

"Fine with me. I'm almost done here." He scribbled some more notes. "All right, I'll see you tomorrow Randall. Eat your food and don't hesitate to ask questions about anything you notice." He turned around and walked through the door.

"Okay. Out with it. What do you want to talk to me about?"

"I brought you something."

"I saw the flowers."

"If you were looking closer, you'd notice that they were fake." Cally took the flowers out of the vase and removed a small plastic container.

"What's that?"

"Jell-o." She passed the container to him. "Believe me, I've tasted that glop on your tray before. It's not very nice. The Jell-o is grape. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, sure. I just don't like them so much when they're dried out."

"I've had stomach flu before, and I know Jell-o always makes me feel better when I'm sick." She smiled.

"I like your style. But how are we going to fool him about the vitamins?"

"Pills. They're a lot easier than shots." Randall peeled the lid off the cup. After wiping his spoon off with a napkin, he took a spoonful of Jell-o and ate it.

"Not bad. Not bad at all," he mumbled, with his mouth full. "What're you going to do with the yuck?"

"Flush it, what else?" They both laughed. Randall laughed so hard he choked, spraying Jell-o everywhere and dripping tears from his eyes. Cally had to pat him on the back to get him to stop. Randall's breath shook as he wiped his eyes off.

"I don't think he'll fall for it."

"Honey, I've been here since 1985. Food poisoning from a bad fish sandwich. I did the same thing then, and he didn't know the difference."

Honey.

She called me 'honey'.

Randall just sat there.

"I'll bring the multivitamins and a glass of water later. Say, do you like checkers?"

"Anything with a winner and a loser, I'm game, sweetheart." He meant that as a cool thing to say. Or did he?

"Prepare to meet the Jumpmaster. I've hopped more than a rabbit." She removed a box from the games cart that he hadn't seen a minute ago. "Which do you prefer, black or red?"

"Red. The color of your face when you lose."

"No, your face."

"Yours."

"Yours."

"Nuh-huh, yours."

"Yours infinity."

"That sounds familiar."

"Really?"

"Yup."

Cally gave him the red pieces, and set out the board. He placed his checkers on the board. "Are you sure we have time to play? I mean, don't you have a job?"

"My shift doesn't start for 3 hours, coward." She moved a checker. "Your turn. How about a tournament? Best of 7?"

"You're on." Randall moved his red checker forward.

"How did you do that?"

"Practice. I had 3 brothers who were checker fiends."

Randall stared at the scoreboard. So far it was 3-1 Cally and he didn't stand a chance. "Well, I guess I lose. But, just for the record, I let you win."

"We still have one more game, maybe 3." She looked up at the clock. "10 to 3. Oh no, I'm sorry, it's my shift now. Gotta go." She got up off the bed. "Man,that was intense. A coupla times you really had me there."

"Do you have to?" Randall was having too much fun to stop. "I really want to earn back some dignity. I'm a man. I need to win." He pumped his arms like a body builder.

"Nice try, Schwartzenegger, but the other patients need me. Tell you what. My shift ends at 8 tonight. If you're not asleep, we can play some more. Okay?"

"I vill try to stay avake, Sveetie."

Cally giggled. "Great, it's a date then. See you tonight." She walked out, leaving Randall alone with his thoughts.

"It's a date."

Had he, he, Randall, the real bad guy.............had he just been flirting? The very idea was foreign to him. Cally, she was nice, but, did she feel the same way? She had called him pet names, too, but.........

His stomach rumbled with a warm, weird feeling, like the snake was waltzing now.

It felt good.


	8. The Turning Point

As the weeks passed by, Randall slowly got better. The bruises faded, and his eating habits returned to normal, thanks to Cally's Jell-o and vitamin pills, not to mention her eyes and smiles. He often wished she didn't have to work so much, and could return to play checkers and joke about life in general.

He still hadn't told her that he loved her, yet. That feeling was the one he couldn't admit in all the weeks of conclaves and confessionals. It wasn't because he was wishy-washy; no, he was quite certain he loved her. It was whether Cally returned the sentiment or not; _that _was the question. Yes. He still wasn't sure if she oved him back. Part of him didn't want to face a life where they both knew the truth; the other part didn't want to face a life where Cally remained in the dark forever. Randall had no idea which side would win, but he hoped it would happen soon.

Bob came in to check up on him often, and they shared a few wisecracks between tongue depressors, but they never broached the subject. Now, it can't be left unsaid what Bob thought of the matter; he actually figured it out before Randall did. It wasn't hard to miss, unless you happened to be the aforementioned lover, and even then, it still presented itself shamelessly and obviously. But the lovee...........

If good old Doc Beele knew the deception that took place when his watchful eye wasn't eyeing, he didn't say a word. He himself had often thought it might be possible to take the food up a notch, but never really aired his views in public, mostly because it was a fact that couldn't be denied, and if extremely obvious, was therefore pointless as a topic of debate.

Randall knew that sooner or later, he would have to go back to work, and he dreaded the day. His first experience, as we earlier learned, having not been pleasant, provided him with a rather grim view of the future employment opportunity he would take advantage of. Alice had already assured him they wouldn't make him go back. She also gave him a bit of advice; "Don't go into the space program, hon." It was nice to have a mother figure in a strange world, for that was what Alice had become to him. She would borrow books from the library she'd thought he would like, and even lent him a couple of Randy Travis CDs. Randall had to confess that he honestly liked some of the songs. They made him feel the way the people in them did. So when he woke up with a cowboy hat on one morning, he knew who had given it to him. In fact, he even decided that if it was all right with his bride, he'd have her as the matron of-but then he wasn't really sure he ever would. Because he still hadn't asked yet.

The day began like any other. He ate the takeout eggs and bacon-which he'd found on his nightstand upon waking up and assumed they were his-and had turned on the TV in his room to watch a court show that he liked, when he heard a knock at the door.

"Knock-knock." Zera.

"Who's there?" he asked, straightening up in bed.

"I'm fullup."

"I'm fullup who?"

"Hurry up then, bathroom's down the hall to your left!" She cackled for a while, then calmed down. "Oh, man, that's a killer. Here's your mail."

Randall sifted through it. The usual _Pester Bee_, a memo from Alice saying he would need to make an appointment to discuss jobs (again!), and a very unusual pile of magazines that floored him when he saw them.

"_Macho Monster, Extreme Lizards, Creeple_............Zera, where'd you get these? They're this month's editions!"

"Didn't you know about the door?"

Floored again.

"What.........door?"

"The mail door. Pester's rented an apartment in Monstropolis. That's how we get our news from the other world." She breathed on her nails, which were painted pink, then rubbed them on her denim skirt. "Although it's got no real value to me. Being born here and all."

"Why don't I know about this?"

"Oh, you were going to, soon enough. I suppose bein' bed rid, you don't have as much of an opportunity to hear gossip, do you? Well, now you know. See ya." She waved to him and patted her mail pouch.

Randall wasn't looking at her. He was only focused on one thing.

_A way back..........without popping onto the scare.......no, laugh floor. So easy. So easy._

The thought burned his brain, until he finally made up his mind to get up.

He had to tell Cally.

Moving the annoying little button on a string that had sat on his bed since he arrived, he got up. Now, not being used to walking, he was still a little shaky. But when an idea comes into Randall Boggs' mind, it doesn't just fly away in an instant. His brain was a perfect quagmire of determinations.

He pulled on the green robe that lay on the visitor chairs, and stuck his four feet into matching slippers. Still quivering, he made his way slowly but surely to the clinic, where Cally was working now.

The receptionist eyed him with a look of disgust, as though she had onlt taken this job for the pay and didn't really enjoy the idea of ferrying patients to the examination rooms, so when she started to get up off of her seat, Randall moved his hands down to say he'd take care of it himself. Seeing his name on his bracelet, she looked it up and coolly informed him that he did not have an appointment. He refused to wait outside, though, and walked in the room she indicated after much annoyance at his brazenness.

Luckily, Cally wasn't seeing anybody at the moment, but rather was cleaning up the exam room. When she saw Randall at the door, she first looked surprised, then amused.

"Hey, what are you doing out of bed? If you wanted me, you could've pressed the buzzer and asked for me." So that's what that annoying "button on a string" was for. Randall blushed in his special way, and Cally giggled.

"Cally, did you know about the door?"

"Door? What door? We've got lots of-" She realised mid-sentence what he meant. "Oh, the mail door. Of course I know about that. Why do you ask?"

"Does anybody ever......_go _through it?"

"Well, Zera has to, and being born here she's not likely to make much of a sensation."

"No, I mean, has anybody ever gone and _stayed_?"

Cally stopped wiping at that. She put her hand on her chin and thought for a second. "I don't think so."

"Why didn't you?"

"Do you even remember who I am? They'd boil me in oil if I tried."

"But isn't it better than here?"

"Not really. I used to think so, but I guess they both have their good points."

"Then you wouldn't have to live in fear of being discovered. And since you wouldn't work for Monsters Inc anymore, you wouldn't be a threat."

"That's not how they see it. Riots in the streets. Demonstrations. Imprisonment. Not a pretty picture, eh?"

All of a sudden, something welled up in Randall. It was like puke only good.

"I just thought.........that if we could go back.............if we had a chance......."

"Why is this so important to you?"

The good puke spilled.

"I-I.......I.....I, love you." And with that it was all out. His soul, his heart given to a dog to tear. The only happy part of him was the snake; it jumped for joy much as John the Baptist jumped in Elizabeth's womb, an event of far greater importance, but not lacking in euphoria just the same.

Cally was dumbstruck. Her face was as blank as a virgin snow. Then, it came.

"I............well, I guess.............I sorta.........well, too.....uh, yeah." She never said the words "I love you", but her face had changed into the happiest thing he had ever seen.

That was all he needed.

And that was all she needed.

That was all.

And everything.

All in one.

They kissed. Somehow they had migrated to the waiting room in their stupor, and two cat boys with broken arms in slings whooped it up like strays on a fence. Never mind. All Randall knew was, this was right. This was true.

Let the ski trip come.


End file.
